Up in Smoke
by remuslover101
Summary: Their relationship was like a cigarette,burnt out and smoking. ANGST,HBP


An empty coffee cup sat on the kitchen counter, the rings it left behind staining the wooden surface. The ashtray beside it smoked slightly as a smoked cigarette burnt its way to embers. She watched it burn, taking note of how each bit curled and spiralled in the heat, changing colours slowly from brown to red to orange to black, before disintegrating. Lighting yet another cigarette she began to contemplate just how much their relationship was beginning to resemble a burnt out cigarette. They had been so perfect together, so happy, and now? Well now their relationship was burnt out, turning to cinders in front of her very eyes with a fire she did not know how to put out.  
He wanted to leave her. That much was painstakingly obvious from the way he refused to meet her eyes and slept on the edge of the bed choosing to fall to the floor rather than be close to her.  
But he still told her he loved her with the same gentle tone he always had.  
And she hated him for it.  
Really hated him.

The bed beside him was empty when he awoke. The familiar heat of her body had been replaced with the feel of cold crisp bed sheets and there was no indentation of her head upon her pillow. He could smell the faint waft of smoke that had filled their flat since Sirius had died, and her smoking habits became more and more obsessive, seeping in from the kitchen. With it brought the realisation of what he was doing to the only woman he had ever loved. His bag lay under their bed, his belongings already packed and all he wanted was to unpack it as he had so many times before. But, he knew it had to happen. For her sake, he was prepared to throw whatever they had into the fire, prepared to dance on the ashes of his happiness just to see her smile, prepared to turn himself to smoke just to see her alive.  
But she still told him she loved him, despite the pain he was causing her.  
And he hated her for it.  
Really hated her.

"Morning" She mumbled around a cigarette as he shuffled into the kitchen.  
He nodded sharply in response, reaching for the kettle whilst his hand held tightly onto a crumpled letter.  
"What's that?" she asked, curiously, gesturing to the letter with her cigarette.  
"Letter from Dumbledore that arrived a few days ago, I haven't replied yet"  
"Oh?"  
Silence. It filled the small kitchen, heavy and suffocating, possible scenarios running amok in her head.  
"He wants me to find Greybacks pack" He sighed, leaning back against the kitchen counter  
"What? Is he insane? Greyback could be anywhere, and it's not safe for you to go that close to him, tell him to get someone else to do it. I'll do it!"  
"I'm the only one who can infiltrate their ranks"  
"No. No… just no" he couldn't be saying what she thought he was saying, Dumbledore would never.  
"He wants me to join the pack, convince as many werewolves as possible to turn away from Voldemort" she winced.  
"You're going to refuse, right?" she asked imploringly.  
"No, I'm going to go I'm…"  
"NO, no you can't. You have to tell Dumbledore you can't. You'll get yourself killed! You can't do this to yourself, I won't let you" interrupting loudly, her breath caught in her chest, she reached forward to grasp hold of his jumper with both hands.  
"You do not get to choose what I can and can't do Nymphadora" He said coldly, meeting her gaze for the first time in days. "You do not get to decide what is important in this war and what isn't and if you grow up for 5 minutes you will understand that"  
She jumped back startled, visibly wounded.  
"But what about…us" she muttered weakly, fighting the burn at the back of her throat.  
He was quiet for a moment and then emotionlessly replied.  
"I think we should end it… end this, us" He fought back the tears in his own eyes as he watched hers overflow and run tracks down her cheeks. What he'd give to hold her again, wipe the sadness from her eyes and carry her to their bed to forget the world once more. It pained him to see her look so timid…so young.  
"We're just not right for each other" And with that he turned on his heel picked up his bag from the living room and walked towards the door.  
"Wait" she cried as his hand closed upon the door handle.  
"Tell me you don't love me. Tell me this meant nothing to you"  
"I don't love you Tonks" and with that he opened the door and was gone into the bright July morning


End file.
